FOGGY MIND

Aria blinked. Sunlight, harsher than she’d ever known, sliced through the gap in the heavy curtains, painting stripes across the unfamiliar ceiling. She was lying on her back, tangled in silk sheets so smooth they felt like liquid against her skin. Disoriented, she pushed herself up on her elbows, her head swimming.

Where was she?

The room was enormous, decorated in shades of cream and gold. A massive walk-in closet stood open, revealing rows upon rows of clothes, all impeccably organized. Shoes lined the floor, glittering under the soft light spilling from recessed fixtures. It was a level of luxury she couldn't even fathom.

Panic clenched at her throat. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The only thing she remembered was the name Blackthorn, she knew she was going to find answers to her questions, starting from a person named Blackthorn.

She walked over to the closet, drawn by the sheer volume of garments. Dresses in every color imaginable hung neatly, alongside tailored pantsuits and delicate blouses. Everything looked brand new, untouched. She reached out, tracing the soft fabric of a crimson dress. It was her size. All of it was her size.

Aria turned away, feeling increasingly uneasy. She needed to find out where she was, and how she got here.

Her gaze fell upon a sleek, silver phone sitting on the bedside table. She picked it up. No contacts. No messages. Just a blank screen staring back at her. It was as if her entire digital life had been wiped clean.

She walked to the large windows. Floor-to-ceiling glass offered a panoramic view of a city skyline that stretched as far as the eye could see. Skyscrapers pierced the clouds, their glass facades reflecting the morning sun. It was beautiful, breathtaking… and utterly alien.

A strange ache bloomed in her chest. A deep, hollow feeling, as if a vital piece of her was missing. The city felt… wrong. Like she didn’t belong here.

As she stared out at the sprawling metropolis, a door opened behind her. She whirled around, her heart pounding.

He stood there, framed in the doorway, fresh from a shower. His dark hair was damp, slicked back from his forehead, and he wore a simple grey t-shirt and dark jeans that somehow managed to look impossibly elegant. He looked exactly like the man she remembered from last night, but different. Sharper. More defined. He was devastatingly handsome, a sculpted god carved from granite. And unsettlingly familiar.

Aria felt a jolt of… something. Recognition? Fear? A strange, unwelcome pull?

"Good morning," he said, his voice a low, smooth rumble. He offered a small, enigmatic smile. "I was wondering when you'd wake up."

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Where am I?"

He stepped into the room, closing the distance between them with effortless grace. “You’re home, Aria.”

Home. The word felt foreign on his tongue, completely disconnected from any feeling or memory within her.

"I... I don't understand," she stammered. "I don't remember any of this."

He sighed, a sound that seemed laced with both concern and… was that impatience? "It's alright. It happens sometimes. The doctors said it's a side effect of… the trauma. You see, everytime you go to sleep, you wake up and ask me the same question over and over again. You just keep waking up with no memories of the previous day so you didn't just lose your memory, new memories are also not forming and I promise to do something about that soon."

Trauma. Another blank space in her mind. What trauma?

"What happened to me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He reached out, gently taking her hand. His touch sent a shiver through her, a confusing mix of warmth and unease. "You were in an accident. A bad one. But you're safe now. I promise."

His eyes, dark and intense, held hers. And for a fleeting moment, she almost believed him.

"Who are you?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer. Or thought she did.

His smile widened, just a fraction. "I'm the man who loves you. Your fiancé. Don't you remember? We live here, together."

Fiancé. Another lie. She could feel it, vibrating in the air between them.

"And my name is...?" she prompted, testing him.

"Aria," he said softly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "Aria Blackthorn."

Blackthorn. She remembers that, maybe he is telling the truth. But does that mean she took his last name without them getting married first? Too many questions and his answers are not helping.

He released her hand and moved towards the door. "Come on. I've made breakfast. You must be starving."

He led her out of the bedroom and into a sprawling living area. The entire penthouse was bathed in sunlight, the city spread out beneath them like a glittering carpet. A table was set with a lavish breakfast: fresh fruit, pastries, and a pot of steaming coffee.

He pulled out a chair for her. "Eat. You need to regain your strength."

He was charming, attentive, filling her plate and pouring her coffee. He spoke of their life together, painting a picture of romantic dinners, weekend getaways, and shared dreams. But it all felt… hollow. Like words read from a script.

She played along, asking questions, pretending to recognize places and people he mentioned. But his answers were always vague, carefully worded, as if he was afraid of revealing too much.

"Remember that trip to Italy?" he asked, his eyes twinkling. "You loved the Trevi Fountain."

"Oh, yes," she said, forcing a smile. "The Trevi Fountain. Of course." She had no idea what he was talking about.

She noticed he never touched her unless she initiated it. A brush of his hand against her arm as he passed, a fleeting squeeze of her shoulder. Never anything more intimate. It was as if he was deliberately keeping her at arm's length.

"What do you do?" she asked, trying a different tack.

He paused, his expression unreadable. "I have… investments. Various business interests."

"What kind of investments?"

He shrugged. "It's complicated. You wouldn't be interested."

He was deflecting. Hiding something.

As he spoke, Aria noticed a small, almost imperceptible device on the counter. It was sleek and metallic, with a glowing blue light.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing.

He glanced at the device. "That's just… my assistant. It helps me manage things."

"An assistant?"

"A sophisticated one," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's an AI. Very helpful."

The AI chimed in, its voice smooth and neutral. "Good morning, Aria. I hope you slept well."

Aria stared at the device, a sudden idea forming in her mind.

After breakfast, he left her alone, saying he had to take care of some business. He promised to be back soon.

As soon as he was gone, Aria began to explore the penthouse. It was a maze of opulent rooms, each more extravagant than the last. But she wasn't interested in the decor. She was looking for answers.

She found the central control panel for the apartment's smart system hidden behind a painting in the library. With trembling fingers, she navigated the menu, finally finding the AI assistant's history log.

Her heart pounded in her chest. This was it. This was her chance to find out the truth.

She clicked on the most recent entry and a recording began to play.

It was Damien's voice, low and urgent.

"I don't care what the doctors say. She doesn't remember, which makes her useful. And if she never does… even better."

Aria froze, her blood turning to ice. Useful? What did he mean?

The recording continued, but before she could hear another word, the screen went black.

A cold, hard voice spoke behind her.

"You shouldn't have done that, Aria."

She turned slowly, her eyes wide with fear. Damien stood there, his face a mask of cold fury. The charming, attentive fiancé had vanished, replaced by someone… dangerous.

He stalked toward her, his eyes blazing. She took a step back, her breath catching in her throat.

"What did you hear?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Aria didn't answer. She couldn't. She was frozen, paralyzed by fear.

He reached out, grabbing her arm. His grip was like steel.

"Tell me!" he roared, his face inches from hers.

Aria closed her

eyes, bracing herself for whatever was to come. The truth, she realized, was far more terrifying than she could have ever imagined.